


Seaslick

by seraglio



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Little Mermaid Elements, in which some mermaids actually eat people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraglio/pseuds/seraglio
Summary: “You wouldn’t be easy prey.” As snarled as it had been, her face appeared to flush in the moonlight, as though embarrassed by her assessment. No, he wouldn’t be easy prey, no matter the musicality of her voice as it carried itself across the waves and toward him.“A kind monster. Is that what you are?” Wasn’t that what she was claiming herself to be, at this moment? It could have easily been a trick. He thought it to be a trick, but her anger and indignation insisted otherwise.“Your kind are the monsters.” She retreated and he followed, and were it not for the gravity tugging her toward him, he might have insulted himself for being so easily captivated. “This was a mistake.”“You aren’t real,” he argued, more with himself than it was with the vision of her. She laughed, a ringing sound that sounded amused and incredulous and almost wistful.“I’m not real,” she agreed, and with a contortion of her torso, she was out of sight, abandoning him to gawk from the shore.A mad man, indeed.OR: The one in which Rey is a mermaid that pines for two legs and a prince that, as it would seem, is actually kind of an asshole.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I still intend to write more of Wild, but I had this idea pop into my head and I had to write it. Comments and kudos inspire me, so please leave either if you enjoy it!

"We shouldn't be doing this, Rey."

 

Finn's voice sputtered like a hiss behind his teeth as his fingers squeezed around her wrist, thumb and forefinger pressed together like a manacle. The pressure did little to discourage her from her trajectory, for however successful it was in drawing her attention toward her companion, lips pinched together in a scowl Finn seemed to recognize as one of unflinching determination.

 

A Rey that had set her mind to a task was not a Rey easily dissuaded, no matter how admirable a quality her stubbornness proved to be.

 

" _Rey._ " Another exasperated but hushed groan as she struggled against his grasp. Out of compassion - and a need for sidestepping her temper - his fingers slipped and slid from the wet arch of her wrist, though he hadn’t flinched from where he had nearly shackled himself to her side, quivering with with the knowledge of the rule they intended to shatter.

 

Or the code Rey intended to disobey, more aptly, and _had been_ defying without apology and without shame. Finn wouldn’t share her wonder of _two-legs_ or the castles and houses they've built along the shores, but she had learned to drown out his disapproval and wild hand gestures whenever she chose to tug him to the surface of the sea to spy on a realm outside of their own.

 

"You'll be exiled!" His scolding pitched and wavered, tight with incredulity and the same protectiveness he had always exhibited. Sentiment tugged at her, but she brushed it aside; Finn might be her closest friend, her _only_ friend, but there was little point in resisting the allure of such a world. She had tried, of course, heard every crafted story meant to turn their kind against those that would have them netted and displayed as monsters, but even tales of bloodshed and violence were not enough to dampen her wonderment.

 

Rey sniffed in reply, making her distaste known with that action alone. "Let them exile me," was her rebuttal, forced through clenched teeth and a tighter jaw at the mere idea of punishment for fraternizing with the supposed enemy. Who they had been _told_ to oppose, to loathe, to conceal themselves from.

 

The roll of Finn's eyes wasn’t a novel sight, and neither was the slapping burst of his fin against water in his attempts to trail after her whirling thrusts through the ocean spray.

 

"You shouldn't follow me." It was a quiet command in the arch of the alcove she had taken as her hiding place - or _spying place_ , as Finn had called it, for the view of the shore it offered. She would care little if they thought it necessary to punish her for her exploration, to think of her as an outcast, but Finn - kind, sweet Finn - deserved more than to be condemned to that loneliness.

 

For her, at least, it would be familiar.

 

Finn's protest was quick on his tongue, but she allowed him no opportunity to vocalize it before she insisted on pressing forward, brushing by jagged rocks to peer out from their sides at the sound of approaching footfalls.

 

She could barely hear them over the foam of the ocean, but they were there, a heavy trudge against grains of sand. She didn’t know why he came - The Lonely Prince, she had called him once, and Finn had nearly snorted before insisting she had been indulging in too many tales of whirlwind romance - but she had learned his habits, knew he would arrive with his feet bare and his tunic untucked, knew his expression will be as sour as it always was when she caught glimpses of him.

 

Just as she knew she would return home and imagine for herself why it was the muscles of his mouth seemed so trained to frown.

 

" _That's_ him? Your secret admiree?" The abruptness of Finn's voice at the shell of her ear prompted her muscles to tense and shudder as though barely contained by her own skin. Her wince shifted to a sharpened glare, and even Finn had the decency to appear properly apologetic for nearly provoking her into scurrying through water. Allowing herself to admire and appreciate from afar was already challenging the boundaries between their worlds; revealing themselves to a two-leg would be an unforgivable offense.

 

"He looks..." Finn paused. _Beautiful,_ Rey would say, but what Finn had blurted was something entirely its opposite.

 

"Like he would make a meal out of both of us."

 

"Finn!" she scolded, sharp but endeared. His laughter echoed and rang around them, and only after the prince's head tilted and snapped to attention did Rey slap her palm over Finn's smiling mouth to quiet his bubbling laughter. The fingers of her other hand curved around his bicep to pull him behind the makeshift fortress the rock offered itself as, almost bruising in its pressure.

 

"Show yourselves." The baritone swirled heat through her. She had never heard him speak a word, but the warmth that experience elicited evaporated when she nudged her head around the corner, granting herself a glimpse of the prince's knuckles on the hilt of his sword.

 

"I order you to _show yourselves_ ," the prince repeated more forcefully, giving Rey the impression of a spoiled child sullen at the idea that anyone would dare to disobey or ignore him.

 

While Finn's mouth was agape to seemingly answer, Rey hardly hesitated to wedge her elbow into his side. The prince’s footsteps stomped closer to the line of the ocean at the sound of his protesting squeak, waves brushing against the tip of his boots, and it was all the motivation needed for Rey to curl their fingers together and inelegantly pull Finn to her as they splashed into the sea, but not before her gaze whipped to meet the bemused, narrow stare burning into her from the shore.

* * *

 

He had waited hours for another glimpse of her.

 

There was little use in denying where his focus was; the ease in which his father could slide up to his side without making a sound - _all of that piracy experience put to use,_ Ben thought with that familiar surge of resentment - spoke of his distraction, but Ben pointedly refused to so much as offer him a glance in acknowledgement until his father opened his mouth.

 

“You missed dinner, kid,” Han commented, voice gruff and quiet, though not without the same awkwardness he had always used in communicating with him, like speaking to something unfamiliar and foreign. A wild animal, even, as though one syllable would provoke him to either snap or snarl.

 

Making no move to reply, Ben merely arched a brow, the silent _and?_ conveyed in one sullen gesture. Given the exasperated snort in reply, he assumed his father was fluent in _that_ particular language.

 

“Your mother isn’t too happy that you left us with your…” The disapproval was apparent from Han’s mouth, dripping from every syllable for what Ben assumed was the purpose of rubbing it in. “Companion. Delightful company, that one.”

 

“If I’m not mistaken, I do recall you calling her a…” He paused, flippant in his performance of forgetfulness. “What was it? ‘Vile, money-grubbing siren’.”

 

“Because she is,” his father grunted, and from the corner of Ben’s peripherals, the lopsided stretch of Han’s mouth could have been mistaken for a smile. “Your mother thinks so, too.”

 

That, at least, was an opinion Ben shared, in spite of the stubbornness that kept him from any agreement.

 

“Her father is a powerful man. We need him.” When Han moved to interrupt, what Ben already presumed was the same rehearsed speech - _we don’t need him, Ben_ \- on his tongue, his hand fired into the air between them. A suggestion to halt, before he lashed his own father with his tongue in this same droll, repetitious conversation.

 

“ _I_ want his allegiance. Supreme Leader Snoke, as I’ve said, is a wise man, regardless of my mother’s opinion.”

 

“He’ll use you.” It was the truth from his father’s mouth, and had been as true from his mother’s mouth once he had announced his intentions to marry, but Ben refused to relent. He would use him, yes, but how could they not understand that a man as influential as Supreme Leader Snoke could be used in return? It was merely a matter of playing the game, making shrewd maneuvers. Typical fanfare for any royal, and a match of wits his father would have known, had he not been more in love with his ship than his own wife. His own _family._

 

When Ben said nothing, Han begrudgingly stood, hovering. His silence was a petty retaliation, but Ben couldn’t bring himself to care. His father hadn’t tried to be a father, and so he had no right to presume Ben would try to be a son.

 

“I’ll leave you to your brooding, kid,” his father huffed out with that same derisiveness that riled Ben into bristling whenever he used it.

 

It had been a betrayal, once, when he had heard the echoing boom of Han’s frustration.  _How am I supposed to bond with him?_ snapped at his mother, as though she were to blame for the quiet sullenness of their son, who preferred books to the extravagant social affairs of the monarchy or the abused ships his father had such a fondness for.

 

It was little more than a petty annoyance, now, for the isolation and privacy it granted him where he sat, granules of sand clinging to the edges of wet-streaked boots as he listened to Han’s retreating footsteps carry him toward the castle. His father would be all too enthused if he witnessed him _pining_.

 

No, not pining, but _curious_ as to the intentions of those two intruders.

 

He had been successful in excusing it as that simple fascination before the resounding _smack_ drew his gaze. He stood so hastily that the sea blurred and rotated on its axis, stumbling with a clumsiness that had been reversed for the too-tall adolescent he had been, complete with big ears and lanky legs he had yet to learn to use to his advantage.

 

“Come out.” Perhaps he was merely mad, imploring the ocean’s waves at the slightest suggestion that she - that creature from a storybook - had returned to the shore.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” he tried again, with a gentleness he recognized as unlike him. Pride wouldn’t allow him to wince at the softness of his invitation, nor was it a sincere one. He had heard of her kind and the pleasure they took from toying with men, tempting them into the ocean to press them beneath the sea and tear into their flesh; for however charmed he had been by her appearance, he wasn’t a simpering _fool._

 

“Your sword.” Narrowing his eyes was hardly useful against the shadows casting themselves along the angles of her profile, concealing her where she stood pressed desperately to a sea-slick boulder. “Put down your weapon.”

 

It wasn’t, Ben recognized, a request. He could snap her in two - this little, fragile wild thing - if it pleased him, and yet she had the nerve to make commands of _him._ It was as intoxicating as it was an annoyance, as amusing as it was insulting. Torn between a smirk and an unimpressed glance, he settled for neutrality, pointedly letting his sword clang into the sand with a shrill ring.

 

“Pleased?” he mocked, and even from his position in the sand, he could trace the outline of her scowl. “I did as you’ve asked. Come closer.”

 

The demand apparently displeased her. She wavered in place, torn between withdrawing into the sea and heeding him, and it was only when his lips pressed together in dissatisfaction did she step closer.

 

 _Swam closer_ seemed to be more fitting, a glide toward him that exposed her to his sight. The tendrils of her hair were damp with moisture, spilling rivulets along the stretch of her skin between her bare breasts and the taut muscles of her torso, along the shimmer of her scales.

 

Scales. For all her nudity and otherworldliness, she had no notions of modesty. Nothing about her screamed of shyness, not when coupled with the defiant tip of her chin, as though daring him to drink her in.

 

“Have you come to kill me, then?” Her nose scrunched at his question, if it could be called that. He intended it as little more than ridicule, no matter how convinced he was that she was an illusion created by his own imagination.

 

“I’m not a murderer,” she spat like it was poison, obviously insulted, whether it had been his straightforward mockery or the suggestion that she would shed blood that had riled her into something feral.

 

“Aren’t you?” he drawled, as though unimpressed with the conversation and the appearance of this _thing._ This horrifying, beautiful thing that had chosen to approach him, with sharp, glinting teeth and an even sharper wit.

 

Her head shook, adamant, vehement in her protests. “I’m not…”

 

“Like the others?” he interrupted, eyes dancing with a predatory amusement. “No interest in preying on gullible men?”

 

“You wouldn’t be easy prey.” As snarled as it had been, her face appeared to flush in the moonlight, as though embarrassed by her assessment. No, he wouldn’t be easy prey, no matter the musicality of her voice as it carried itself across the waves and toward him.

 

“A kind monster. Is that what you are?” Wasn’t that what she was claiming herself to be, at this moment? It could have easily been a trick. He _thought_ it to be a trick, but her anger and indignation insisted otherwise.

 

“Your kind are the monsters.” She retreated and he followed, and were it not for the gravity tugging her toward him, he might have insulted himself for being so easily captivated. “This was a mistake.”

 

“You aren’t real,” he argued, more with himself than it was with the vision of her. She laughed, a ringing sound that sounded amused and incredulous and almost wistful.

 

“I’m not real,” she agreed, and with a contortion of her torso, she was out of sight, abandoning him to gawk from the shore.

 

A mad man, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want, girl?" She knew then that she was in hot water, so to speak. Unkar Plutt was the only help she had - the only practitioner of a darker magic that would dare to defy tradition and law for a profit, and she was in no place to go combing through the seabeds for another capable witch.
> 
> Rey breathed out, bubbling the water. "A new life," she answered. Knowing it to be vague, she swallowed thickly, bracing herself for the inevitable laughter she could hear curdling in Plutt's throat, ridiculing her. "Humanity."
> 
> "Stupid girl." From his mouth, it sounded more like a compliment, saccharine and honeyed. Her teeth grit, but she didn't relent.
> 
> "I'll do anything." The desperation, as she had expected, was enough to convince him that she was worthy of his time and his talents. Plutt's eyes flickered with an unmistakable greed, a look of hunger that made her skin crawl, that should have convinced her to turn away.
> 
>  
> 
> She didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i started writing this chapter nearly a year ago and only completed it today. i don't know if it's any good, or how long this fic will be. i'm not entirely sure i'll continue it - i've got some other ideas floating around atm and i'm not sure about the direction i'm taking with this, but i wanted to give it a shot.
> 
> sorry for the huge wait! to everyone that left comments and kudos on this fic, thank you so much - i truly appreciate it.

Maz's palace was, as it  _always_ was, crowded with the kind of misfits and outcasts that few would consort with. Reputation was paramount, Rey learned, to acceptance in their small community; the exiles and criminals that had pressed themselves into the corners of the cramped establishment had all but cast off the chains of the monarchy to serve themselves and earn a different sort of prestige.

How lonely it was to be an outcast even among outcasts, but without a family name to either uphold or taint with her actions, she had been little more than an orphan unwanted and cast aside. She had wondered, of course, whether her parents had thought her undesirable and tried for another, more pleasing child, but it was a thought pressed aside in order to focus elsewhere.

Namely on Maz, wherever the little creature had scurried off to. Admonishing other criminals, Rey imagined; she had quite the talent for putting the men in their place and humiliating them with her lectures.

She turned no heads as she tugged Finn toward the very back of the castle for the sake of their privacy. Without a name for herself, she had learned that she was a  _no one_ in the eyes of nobles and miscreants alike - not so unlike Finn, who couldn't recall the faces or names of his own family. An orphan, just like her.

Or not just like her, given how openly he was gaping at her as though she had sprung another tail when he wasn't occupied with casting glances furtively over his shoulder. 

"Would you stop that?" she ordered, hushed. Finn jolted in his seat, whipping around to face her with a familiar wide-eyed look, until it narrowed into an accusatory glance for interrupting his attempts to ensure they were alone and without any curious eavesdroppers participating in their conversation.

"I wasn't doing anything!" It was too loud of a declaration, the kind of tone that was too incriminating of a protest to be ignored. Rey withheld a groan as the tables nearby stared, either disapproving or interested in what they must have assumed was an argument. Finn was less conspicuous, swallowing loudly and averting his eyes between Rey and the other customers in a manner that left her too dizzy to follow his movements. 

When he did turn his attention completely to her, she offered him a pointed look. 

"They're criminals, Finn. They won't care that we've been," she paused, tone exaggerated with annoyed mockery. "Consorting with the enemy." 

"They should care!" Having learned from his mistake, Finn's voice was barely above a whisper as he stretched across the table toward her. "It's a crime, Rey.  _The_ crime. We would be banished!" 

At Finn's roll of the eyes, Rey imagined her face must have betrayed her.

" _More_ banished." And that much was true. They were still free to wander on the outskirts of civilization, of the monarchy, without being reprimanded, but they would never be welcome. 

"More banished," she repeated, rolling the words around on her tongue. After a contemplative pause, she announced: "I don't care, Finn. _The monarchy_  doesn't care - not about us." And it was innocent, wasn't it? Rey liked to insist as much, but Finn had opposed the idea at every corner. 

"There were those that would." Finn gave her the impression of a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth as their eyes snapped to the creature that had spoken. Maz's eyes glinted with what Rey would have interpreted as mischief, if not for the shrewdness of the gaze peering at her. 

"Maz." Finn was still gaping, but Rey had the sense to twist and turn with what was the most stilted smile she could offer. Maz, meanwhile, looked none too strained. Mistrustful, maybe, if the narrowed and searching quality of her gaze was any suggestion of her mood. 

"Rey," she greeted, sincerely warm. "My favorite customer." Her fingers were small against Rey's own, just a brush of a hand to earn her complete attention. Maz's penetrative stare was never particularly comfortable for the truths it uncovered and the impossibility of concealing much from a creature that could gain insight to anyone's mind, but Rey made no move to withdraw from Maz's intensity.

"Walk where you belong, child." Finn's expression was none too pleased from what Rey could spy from her peripherals, but he made no protest against encouraging her fancies. What could be called wisdom is what Rey assumed was eavesdropping, but there was no need - or opportunity - to make a comment on it as Maz whisked herself to the next table, then the next, followed by the ring of her own laughter. 

"Rey, you  _can't."  I can,_ she thought to herself for no other reason but to satisfy her rebellious and stubborn streak, but pressed her lips together to keep from insulting her closest and only friend. He must've known what she had schemed, another pitfall of the bareness of her expressions, or he had already invented an argument to counter Maz's encouragement. 

Both seemed fitting.

Regardless of what the truth was, she pushed from the table, determined in spite of the excitable quiver in her jaw. 

"I don't belong here." Finn flinched. It wasn't an insult, and she didn't have any illusions that he had interpreted it as one, but that blunt honesty of her displeasure with their places in society must have struck a nerve. "But I could belong  _with them_ , Finn. Don't you see that?"

"What about me?" Finn moved with her as she made her way to the door, speaking to her back. She paused for only a fraction of a second, shoulders nearly slumping with the idea that she intended to abandon him. 

"You'll always be my friend." Her voice was quiet, now, as they lingered near the entrance. The other tables had taken an interest in their hushed conversation, but none of them were so intrigued as to interrupt. "You know that."

"Let me come with you." His voice bordered on imploring, and were she any less resolute, she would have splintered from it. As it stood, she was too loyal - and too obstinate - to invite Finn into her tangled mess, and even less malleable to the idea of involving him with the very beast so many of their kind had learned to loathe.

"I can't." The emotional wound she had inflicted with just that one rejection of him was apparent to anyone, but she wouldn't allow it. She could stomach the notion of forbidden magic, but _Finn_ \- she could never ask that of him."But you'll know how to find me."

And it was with that she turned away, stripping Finn of his opportunity to convince her that her strategy was one inspired by an insane mind. 

* * *

 

_This is insane._

"Hello?" Surrounded by the echo of her own voice bouncing against the walls, Rey pressed a finger to the slick lip of the cavern she had located - home to a creature she knew to be greedy, selfish, corrupted and twisted - and peered around its side. Only the sound of grunts of labor answered her, but that was no reason to scurry away in distrust from the mossy cave.

She tried again, impossibly louder - and demanding attention - as she shouted: "Hello?" into the vast space, skimming across abandoned bottles with a slap of her fin, glass clashing together with her haste. Even through the slits of her eyes the shapes around her were indiscernible, though slimy and coarse to the touch before she retracted her hand with disgust curling her lip. 

"Welcome." The reply filtered through the water and toward her like a bellow, a gruff and unpleasant sound that forced the hairs at the back of her neck to tingle. Rey's gaze narrowed toward the single source of light within, glittering across something - gelatinous.  _Gigantic._ The scent and sight of him would have been enough to deter her, were she not so desperate to know if his talents had been exaggerated, but she was quick to swallow the bile burning in her throat. 

"You took your sweet time coming to me, girl." It sounded almost syrupy sweet, intimidatingly so, a drawl in the shadows of the cave that had her bristling. As she approached, the light glinted against the sharp jut of teeth in the creature's mouth, a ravenous expression that would have made most cower from the mere sight of it. The gooseflesh that covered her arms must have amused him, even pleasured him, for he only grinned more viciously as she came to a halt.

"Closer," he cooed, and Rey nearly shuddered at the flimsy attempt to appeal to her, that effort for musicality when the  _thing_ in front of her was a grotesque picture. She moved closer and without hesitation out of principle, chin tipped upward to prove he wouldn't achieve his mission of intimidating her as he had undoubtedly done to any others that sought his talents. 

"Closer," he ordered again, with a shrillness that hinted at his disapproval and temper. Her teeth gnashed together in disdain, but she did as she was bid, gliding and halting but a mere foot from the mess of flesh and tentacles eyeing her as one would any appetizing morsel. It was a mistake, Rey realized, when something wet and slippery curved around the contour of her cheek, trailing slime along its path to the arch of her neck. Touch had never been welcome from most, from all but Finn, for the distrust it inspired; while she needed the cooperation of the creature squeezing itself against the small dip in her waist, instinct - and repulsion - kept her from being pliant against its approach. 

Rey's fingers moved with quick purpose,  encircling his wrist. What she thought to be the creature's wrist, at any rate, hands slipping and sliding against the texture of its skin. The blobfish released a croak of a laugh that chilled her to the bone, but Rey's eyes narrowed with a defiant tip of her chin upward. She wouldn't be cowed so easily, not even by this _thing_.

"A feisty one," he muttered, as though appraising her. When her grasp tightened, squeezing against flesh mercilessly, she saw his teeth flash. _Good,_ she thought bitterly. _Be afraid_.

"Such a rude guest." He was sputtering, now, spittle dribbling along his chin. "What do you want, girl?" She knew then that she was in hot water, so to speak. Unkar Plutt was the only help she had - the only practitioner of a darker magic that would dare to defy tradition and law for a profit, and she was in no place to go combing through the seabeds for another capable witch.

Rey breathed out, bubbling the water. "A new life," she answered. Knowing it to be vague, she swallowed thickly, bracing herself for the inevitable laughter she could hear curdling in Plutt's throat, ridiculing her. "Humanity."

"Stupid girl." From his mouth, it sounded more like a compliment, saccharine and honeyed. Her teeth grit, but she didn't relent.

"I'll do anything." The desperation, as she had expected, was enough to convince him that she was worthy of his time and his talents. Plutt's eyes flickered with an unmistakable greed, a look of hunger that made her skin crawl, that should have convinced her to turn away.

 

She didn't.

* * *

_I'll call on you, girl._

The witch's warning still rang in her ears as she fingered the necklace dipping between her bare breasts, a simple conch imbued - allegedly, if Plutt was to be believed; she wouldn't doubt that he had led her astray - with magic. As soon as her feet met sand, she would have the life she had imagined in her loneliest nights, dreaming of a castle by the ocean's edge. 

It had been hours since her visit. Now that she had what she believed she had always wanted, she couldn't find the strength to peel herself off of the rock's edge, listening to the slap of the ocean against the nearby cliff face. She had never imagined she would miss the sea; what was there to miss if it wasn't Finn? It hadn't been home, but it had been familiar. 

 _Safe._ Expected. Predictable. Faced with the potential for more, and she was already waffling.  _Coward,_ she chided herself, taking the plunge back into the ocean's depths as she padded her way toward the looming shore.

It looked so much more vast now, so much more intimidating, so unknown no matter how often she visited to eye it with wistful longing. She was trembling to the very bone, she realized, when her fingertips curled into the damp sand to pull herself nearer.

The pain was  _blinding._ Her mouth opened to cry out, but there was nothing but the strain of her stuttered breath and the burn in her limbs as if shards of glass had embedded their way between her scales. No, not scales - legs, lean and long and smooth beneath her fingertips as she reached for them. Even a single caress had her drawing back, her awe tempered by the agonizing ache. 

Worse yet, they wouldn't  _work._

The corded muscle in her biceps as she planted her hands firmly against the ground quaked with the effort of lifting herself. She'd only gotten as far as her knees, collecting sticky, coarse sand, before she pitched forward. The indignant squeak that wanted to tumble from her throat strangled itself, consisting of empty air out of her mouth. Even the humiliation of it wouldn't keep her down for long; another press forward and she'd stumbled to her feet, legs wobbling and trembling. 

 _Help,_ she wanted to shout, but she couldn't speak. Couldn't even cry out, or sob out in embarrassment. Her eyes watered unpleasantly with the realization, stinging at the corners as she swallowed against the riptide of her emotions. She wouldn't - no, couldn't - allowed herself to be that weak. She had wanted this so desperately,  _too desperately_ , to sniffle and curl into a ball like she was so close to doing. 

Her body had other plans for her. She could feel her vision swimming and herself weakening with the effort, the shock of the wave sending currents of sharp electricity beneath her skin. With another push, she brought herself to all fours, barely able to crawl away from the tide before her eyelids began to flutter.

Shaking and overwrought, the looming silhouette above her stood out against the blackness of the night as she meekly reached forward, fingernails snagging on cloth.


End file.
